


Fray

by sciencefictioness



Series: Legacy [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Dom Jack, Dom Reyes, Dom Zenyatta, Drug Use, Exhibitionism, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Angst, Oral Sex, Pre Legacy, Sub Genji, Voyeurism, Wax Play, mentions of r76
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-04-25 04:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: It wasn’t necessary, sneaking into the temple in the middle of the night.  The outer altars were always open to provide people with a place to meditate, or pray, or just bask in quiet.  He could light incense or candles, toss coins into the fountain, ring the temple bell. But Genji wasn’t there to seek tranquility.  To prostrate himself, to pray.Genji was there for Zenyatta, even if he was loathe to admit it.So there was no real reason to break into the temple like a thief.  Like an assassin.He could come during the day, when the doors were open and the sun was shining, with monks— omnic and human alike— milling around the halls.  Genji didn’t really want to examine why it felt better this way, slinking through the courtyards in the dark with only the moon and the glimmer of firelight to guide him.Why he only wanted to come when he was shaking apart inside.





	1. Edges

**Author's Note:**

> This is pre-Legacy, set before Hanzo leaves the clan. 
> 
>  
> 
> [ cause I'm a fucking mess sometimes](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=0rflghuHtg8&feature=share)

The stone was perfect for climbing, the surface rough enough to give him a good foothold without any sharp edges to cut into his skin, and Genji pulled himself up effortlessly.  The wall was high, built to keep out vandals and vagrants, but not so tall that it really gave him a chance to push himself. It still felt good, scaling the stones by the light of the moon, creeping along the uneven rock on top, leaping soundlessly down to the ground inside.  

 

Like stretching a muscle he hadn’t realized was itching to be used, and Genji kept to the shadows, letting them envelop him as only a Shimada could.

 

With a dragon’s eyes, energy roiling under his skin, tattoo humming happily as he used its power to keep himself hidden.

 

It wasn’t necessary, sneaking into the temple in the middle of the night.  The outer altars were always open to provide people with a place to meditate, or pray, or just bask in quiet.  He could light incense or candles, toss coins into the fountain, ring the temple bell. But Genji wasn’t there to seek tranquility.  To prostrate himself, to pray.

 

Genji was there for Zenyatta, even if he was loathe to admit it.

 

So there was no real reason to break into the temple like a thief.

 

Like an assassin.

 

He could come during the day, when the doors were open and the sun was shining, with monks— omnic and human alike— milling around the halls.  

 

Genji didn’t really want to examine why it felt better this way, slinking through the courtyards in the dark with only the moon and the glimmer of firelight to guide him.  

 

Why he only wanted to come when he was shaking apart inside.

 

He found the path to the well in the corner of the gardens without effort and eased himself to the ground, leaning against the low wall next to it with a sigh.  The same place Zenyatta had found him when they first met.

 

The same place he always found Genji, sooner or later.

 

Genji lit a cigarette, and it came away with pink around the filter where his lip had split again.  The smoke stung his throat, bruises ringing the outside like a collar, the inside raw and sore. There were scratches down his back, throbbing with every beat of his heart.  Bleeding, probably, but he hadn’t bothered to check. Hadn’t bothered to button his shirt, either, not after he’d lost some of them earlier that evening. They’d popped off and skittered across the floor of a bathroom stall, and Genji hadn’t been motivated enough to look for them.  Wouldn’t have know what to do with them if he’d found them. It wasn’t as if he knew how to sew.

 

He could tear himself to pieces, but couldn’t put them together again.  Genji’s hands trembled, his knuckles scabbed over, black nail polish slowly chipping away into nothing.  He sniffed, and it hurt, and Genji was contemplating swallowing a half dozen of the pills in his pocket when Zenyatta floated into sight.

 

“Oh, Genji,” he said, and it was so full of affection that Genji fucking  _ ached.   _ “You keep running in circles.  If you do not change direction, you may end up where you’re headed.”

 

Zenyatta was close.  Closer and closer every time they met, and now Zenyatta was close enough to touch.  God, Genji wanted it. Wanted cool metal fingers to sift through his hair, robotic voice lilting as it chided him.  Wanted to lay his head in Zenyatta’s lap, let the shimmering gold of his orbs wash away everything, until Genji couldn’t help but let himself feel.  Genji took another drag of his cigarette, and shrugged, shirt falling down off one shoulder.

 

“Where else is there to go?” Genji asked, and he sounded small and uncertain, but already knew the answer.

 

There was nowhere.

 

There was Hanzo, back in Hanamura.  Alone and miserable, wrapped so tightly in chains of blood and duty that he couldn’t even breathe without the elders commanding it.

 

Hanzo, and his father’s grave, and the life he’d left behind, yet still carried with him; an invisible weight Genji couldn’t escape.  The elders would have killed him if he’d stayed. Had tried to even after he’d left, sending assassins to chase Genji halfway around the world.  Not their best, because Hanzo would never have allowed it, but enough of them that Genji ran himself ragged putting them down. One after another, again and again, until he finally left Japan behind.

 

Genji thought when Sojiro died that things would get easier, that some of the knots Hanzo had tied himself in would fall away, but he’d been wrong.

 

Hanzo wasn’t coming with him, and there was no point in lingering anymore.  

 

Buried in the fucking ground, and Sojiro still had Hanzo.  In his fist, and under his heel, and there was nothing left for Genji.

 

Nothing but memories, and an empty place in his chest.

 

Genji left his brother behind.  Ran until there was no one left to chase him.  Lost himself on the other side of the world, and stayed lost any way he could.

 

Except now there was nowhere for him, and Genji only felt alive when he was he was in agony.  When he was on fire. When he was lit up, high enough that the ground was miles beneath him.

 

“There is always forward,” Zenyatta said, reaching down, one hand sliding under Genji’s jaw to lift his face, “if only you stop falling backwards.”

 

Genji leaned into the touch, letting the cigarette drop from his fingers and closing them around Zenyatta’s wrist to hold him in place.

 

“I can’t, I…  I don’t know how.  I just- I need-”

 

_ To suffer.   _ Genji couldn’t say it, couldn’t make the words.

 

_ I left him there, and this is all I deserve. _

 

“To punish yourself,” Zenyatta said, and it wasn’t a question.  Genji shrugged, which was answer enough, at least for Zenyatta.

 

He didn’t need to speak, and Zenyatta heard every word all the same.

 

“If you seek to punish yourself, it is not necessary.  Those who truly need punishment to learn from their actions believe themselves blameless in all things.  If it soothes you to let others hurt you, there are better ways than this. People who both break and mend.  There are places you can go.”

 

Overwatch.  Among others.

 

It wasn’t the first time Zenyatta had suggested such a thing, but it was the first time Genji let himself admit what he really wanted instead.  

 

He was so fucking tired of running.

 

Genji took a shuddering breath, letting his head rest on Zenyatta’s knee, blinking up through the wetness pooling in his eyes.

 

“You could do it for me.  Please, Zenyatta.”

 

Genji had never said his name, never addressed him directly, and Zenyatta’s orbs shivered in the air for a moment at the sound of it.  It would be a long time before Genji recognized it for what it was.

 

Zenyatta overwhelmed by him.  By Genji’s voice, and his flesh, and his heat.

 

Zenyatta, already in love, caught frighteningly unaware.

 

He ran his fingers through Genji’s hair, sighing.

 

The first time they touched, and it felt like a goodbye.

 

“I cannot.  You must find the path on your own.  If I did this for you, I would become a crutch.  Something that you cling to, something without which you cannot find balance.”

 

The rejection was as sharp as any blade Genji had ever felt, and it cut deeper, down in Genji’s guts, underneath his ribs.  Anger flared bright in him, until he knew his eyes were alight with it, dragon twisting restless in his skin. He shouldn’t have been surprised.

 

Genji was never, ever allowed to have the things he really wanted in life.

 

Then Zenyatta reached into the loose folds of his clothes and pulled out a bracelet, metal beads fabricated to look like the orbs that hovered around him.  Silver, mostly, with a single gold stone on one side, a purple one across from it. Tiger’s eye. Amethyst. He slipped it over Genji’s wrist, pulling the strings taut, running a fingertip gently underneath it where it fit against Genji’s pulse.  Genji glared at it, but didn’t pull away, brows furrowed, emotions riling.

 

“What’s that for?”  Genji asked, voice rough with barely leashed aggression.

 

“It marks you as my student.  One who seeks harmony in spite of their chaos.”

 

Genji did jerk away then, drawing himself up to his feet, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

 

“I don’t want to be your  _ student,”  _ Genji spat, and slunk back into the shadows, disappearing over the wall and into the night.

 

_ I just want to be yours,  _ but Genji didn’t take off the bracelet.

 

He went home, and changed his shirt.  Did a few lines of coke, and shattered the mirror in his bathroom, fresh cuts breaking open his knuckles.  Finished the bottle of sake on his nightstand. Combed his hair.

 

Put on cologne, and headed to Overwatch.


	2. Chronic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief mentions of drug use, it's a few sentences, nothing intense or romanticized. Just FYI
> 
>  
> 
> "Sometimes I think it's getting better, but then it gets much worse. Is it just part of the process? [Well jesus christ it hurts..."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_kIrRooQwuk)

Overwatch wasn’t what he expected.  Not at first glance, at least.

 

The woman at the front door took Genji in with a frown, looking him up and down with disapproval written across her features, but she didn’t try and prevent him from entering.  The bar seemed painfully ordinary when Genji made his way inside, indigo lights pulsing overhead, people moving in tandem on the dance floor. Ubiquitous, unremarkable techno-pop blasted from the speakers; not as loud as a typical nightclub but just as predictable.  A bartender busily served up drinks, pouring shots and mixing overpriced fruity concoctions for their patrons. It wasn’t as packed as the places Genji tended to frequent, but there was nothing to set it apart as a bondage club, either.

 

He furrowed his brows, mouth twisted up in annoyance, boredom threatening troublingly fast.  He’d already been to a club that night, already had his fill of dancing with faceless strangers— of their rough, impatient fumbling, their clumsy pick up lines, their sloppy mouths on him.  He wasn’t interested in more. 

 

Wasn’t interested in any of it, his buzz fading rapidly, alcohol settling heavy in his limbs.  Now that he was being honest with himself, Genji didn’t truly want  _ most  _ of the things he’d been seeking.  Didn’t want a random fuck in a bathroom, to get on his knees in an alley, to be used and tossed away by drunk businessmen or handsy frat boys. 

 

Genji wanted to hurt, wanted punishment.

 

But mostly he just wanted Zenyatta.

 

Couldn’t have him, because Zenyatta was too fucking soft for his own good and wouldn’t take what Genji was offering.

 

Wouldn’t give Genji what he was asking for, afraid of becoming his next addiction.  Something he leaned on, instead of someone he loved, and Genji couldn’t really blame him for saying no.

 

Everyone who was foolish enough to let Genji too close bore the scars, one way or another.  Genji had considered moving on, putting as much distance between himself and Zenyatta as he possible.  Protecting Zenyatta from him, from the inevitable damage he’d inflict.

 

But Genji was selfish, and empty, and he  _ wanted. _

 

It was far too late for him to run.

 

It took a couple entering through the front and making a beeline for a roped off door in the corner for Genji to figure out that the real fun was happening elsewhere.  The kinky portion of the club was apparently tucked behind a second entrance, which made sense, Genji supposed. He tried to follow after the newcomers only to be turned away, a redhead with an Irish accent and a well-worn spiel stopping him short.  Something about online applications, and background checks, and etiquette education. She seemed incredibly relieved that Genji didn’t have the proper credentials to pass through, and he didn’t know what to make of that.

 

Back in Japan it would have been understandable for someone to be wary of him, but Genji wasn’t entirely sure what kind of danger this woman thought he posed.

 

He tried to sweet talk his way past, but she wasn’t buying any of it, and refused to budge.  Gave him a card with a web address emblazoned across the front, along with basic instructions for filling out an application for entrance into VIP, and Genji shoved it into his pocket with a sigh.  He probably could have gotten into the building from the back, but sneaking in felt like a lot of effort for not much reward.

 

Was it really worth it to use his dragon, evade an underpaid bouncer, and creep through the dark hallways of a bondage club?  Genji wasn’t feeling it, right then.

 

There wasn’t any point in lingering if he couldn’t get back there, but it felt like a waste of a trip if he went home without at least having another drink.

 

Genji went into the bathroom and hid in a stall, tugging out what was left of his coke to do a bump.  He shoved one of his keys into the bag, snorting the powder off the tip with a sharp inhale. It stung, but he was instantly more awake, and he stuck his finger in the mostly empty bag and wiped the residue on his gums.  They went numb, and he licked over his teeth, tossed the bag, and headed out to the bar. 

 

There were only a handful of people there, most of whom were waiting on drinks, poised to head out to a table or back to the dance floor after a quick shot.  Only one of them caught Genji’s eye, a walking cliché; literally tall, dark, and handsome, big enough to toss Genji around without breaking a sweat, shirt stretched taut over his biceps.  Scarred— a couple on his face, more on his forearms, and Genji abruptly wanted to taste them. He was nursing a beer, no one anywhere nearby, so Genji slid onto the stool next to him with a sultry smile.

 

“Buy me a drink?”  Genji lilted, leaning into his space just a little.  The man huffed out an amused laugh as he looked Genji over, eyes glinting with interest.

 

“Mmmm.  I’ll bite, I guess,”  he answered, feigned boredom in his tone, waving the bartender towards them.  “Whatever he wants,” he told them, and Genji liked the sound of that. 

 

The voice, and the words, and the man underneath it all.  Genji grinned wider, nudging his shoulder into the man’s bicep in silent thanks as he ordered.  The bartender offered up his drink, a zombie mixed strongly enough that they’d only serve him two, but Genji didn’t mind.

 

If he couldn’t land this guy in two drinks, he wasn’t worth the trouble.

 

“I’m Genji,” he said, licking straw into his mouth and taking a generous swallow.  It tasted like shit, everything tasted like shit when he was using, but it could have been worse.  The man blinked at his name, like he hadn’t expected it, narrowing his gaze on Genji with something like suspicion.  Then his eyes caught on Genji’s collar bones, on his neck, and he frowned instead.

 

“Gabriel,” the man said, but it was distracted, faraway.  As soon as Genji finished sipping at his drink Gabriel reached out, fingers sliding over his throat, tilting up his chin.  Gabriel’s brows were furrowed, in worry or distaste, Genji couldn’t be sure.

 

“Someone’s not taking good care of you,”  he said, thumb tracing over the bruises on Genji’s throat— fingerprints left over from the evening’s previous trysts— and Genji threw his head back and laughed.  He didn’t move enough to dislodge Gabriel’s hand. His fingertips were rough against Genji’s tender skin, and Genji fought the urge to lean in, the press into the ache.

 

“Me, mostly,” Genji said, biting his sore lip and looking up at Gabriel from under his lashes.  “Want to show me how you’d take care of me instead? You can teach me, I learn fast.”

 

Gabriel held Genji’s chin in place, fingers easing over his jaw, holding his gaze.  Genji found he couldn’t look away, pinned in place, frozen. Gabriel’s eyes were unfathomably deep, and Genji felt flayed open beneath them, dangerously unguarded.

 

Like Gabriel was looking straight through him, and there was nowhere for Genji to hide.

 

After what seemed like an eternity Gabriel picked up a napkin from the bar, a wet ring of condensation from Genji’s drink soaked into the paper.  He forced Genji’s chin higher, neck arching with it, and wiped gently at his nose. The napkin came away pink with dried blood, and Gabriel folded it, scrubbing carefully beneath Genji’s mouth before dropping it back on the bar.  Ran his thumb across Genji’s bottom lip, stopping just short of where it was split, letting Genji feel the sting. 

 

“You’re not ready for the things I’d do to you, pretty boy,”  he said, letting go of Genji’s chin and finishing his beer in one gulp.  He waved at the bartender again, who came over with their brows raised in question.  “Put whatever he wants on my tab, I’ll take care of it,” Gabriel said, and the bartender nodded, and went back to pouring shots for a group of noisy girls.  

 

Then Gabriel pulled out his wallet, and took out several bills.  He leaned into Genji’s space, far enough that Genji had to move back to make room, and Gabriel tucked the bills into the pocket of Genji’s jeans with a smirk.

 

“You get yourself home safe, okay, pretty boy?  No driving, no subways, no shady fuckers you just met.  Call an Uber, or a friend, yeah?”

 

Genji blinked, mind still not entirely caught up with the fact that he was being thoroughly, soundly rejected.  He lifted his hand to his mouth in a daze, touching his lip where Gabriel’s thumb had been.

 

“It’s  _ Genji,”  _ he said defensively.  He liked being a pretty boy more than most, but Gabriel said it like an insult, and something in Genji bristled.  Gabriel stood up, laughing once, a dark throaty sound. He ran his fingers through Genji’s hair, taming down the strands, cupping his cheek briefly before letting his hand fall.

 

“Goodnight, Genji,” he replied, and Genji just stared, baffled.

 

Gabriel was about to walk away when someone a few barstools down caught his attention.  A blonde with a scar through his eyebrow, and Genji wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but from the look on his face it seemed like he’d been watching them a while.  Gabriel looked from the blonde, to Genji, and back again, and then rolled his eyes, and headed towards the door. Genji watched him leave, the bite of rejection curling through him like smoke, souring the pleasant buzz of the alcohol in his belly.

 

It wasn’t the first time someone had refused Genji’s advances, but it didn’t usually feel this shitty.  

 

Genji had liked the way Gabriel’s hands felt on him, forcing his chin up, holding him still.  Liked the confident, sonorous roll of his voice, the strength lying in wait in his touch. The promise of being overpowered, handled like he was weightless.

 

Put where Gabriel wanted him, and held down, and  _ used. _

 

It felt different than it normally did, less seedy, less impersonal.  Something warm and foreign had swelled in Genji when Gabriel had gently, carefully, cleaned the blood from his face, when he told Genji to get home safe.  He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, the unfamiliar coil of heat in his chest. 

 

Not unfamiliar.  Out of context.

 

Something he’d only ever felt at Zenyatta’s feet, and Genji was hungry for things he couldn’t put a name to.

 

When he finally shook himself out of his stupor the blonde down the bar was still looking at him, now with an amused sort of grin on his face.  Not quite as tall as Gabriel, but just as muscled, and easily as attractive. He inclined his head in invitation, and Genji hopped off his barstool and flounced down next to him, unwilling to give up an opportunity when it presented itself.  Now that he was closer Genji realized there was more white in his hair than blonde, and that the obvious scar on his eyebrow was just one of several.

 

Not even a silver medal, really, and Genji sighed.

 

“So you come here often?  Just hang around waiting to pounce on his leftovers, or…?”  Genji asked, sharper than he’d have liked, the bitterness of being shot down too fresh to ignore.  The blonde smiled, unconcerned by Genji’s barbs.

 

“I usually am his leftovers, if you want to be technical.  Name’s Jack,” he replied, lifting up his left hand to show Genji the ring there.  A simple platinum band, obviously a wedding ring, and Genji groaned.

 

“Ugh, gross.  He could have just told me he was married instead of making me feel like an idiot,” Genji said, sullenly sipping more of his drink, and Jack hummed out a noise of disagreement.

 

“Mmmm, well.  We’re married, but we have…  not exactly an open relationship, but there’s definitely wiggle room, so to speak.  I’m guessing you didn’t just happen to stumble in here for a drink? You know what kind of place this is, right?”  

 

Genji nodded, not bothering to point out that he hadn’t even gotten to see the the VIP area and didn’t have any idea what was really back there.  

 

“Gabe and me scene together, but I have a Domme I do scenes with as well.  She and Gabe get along just fine, but they don’t have any interest in one another, sexually speaking.  If he had a sub he was interested in, we’d talk about it, but I wouldn’t object them seeing one another, whether I’d be involved or not,” Jack said, and Genji raised an eyebrow, raking his eyes over him.

 

“And you’re telling me this… why?”  Genji asked wryly, sucking down the last of his drink, slurping loudly through his straw for long moments until Jack shot him a look.  “Your other half doesn’t seem particularly interested in me, but it sounds like you’re offering me… either your husband, or a threesome, I can’t quite figure out which,” he finished, shaking his empty glass at the bartender and pointing at himself.

 

He turned back towards Jack expectantly, who was staring at Genji the same way Gabriel had before.  Like he was looking down into him, under his skin, straight through to everything Genji had ever said or done or felt.  It was disarming, and unsettling, and Genji hadn’t been picked apart with someone’s eyes like that in a long, long time.

 

Since Sojiro had been alive, and Genji shuddered, and physically shook the thought away.

 

“I was watching the two of you, and Gabe he doesn’t… he doesn’t do that, ever,” Jack said, and Genji scoffed.

 

“Doesn’t what?  Reject  _ pretty boys  _ at bars?”

 

“Flirt,” Jack said plainly, like it was obvious, waving his hand to indicate Genji.  “Buy men drinks, and touch their faces, and tease them. Set up a tab for them at his favorite bar, give them money for a cab ride home.”

 

Genji cocked his head, considering.  The bartender presented him with his drink, and he took it, pulling out the straw to point at Jack.

 

“Still told me to fuck off, though,” he said, and Jack shrugged.

 

“Point is I haven’t seen him even remotely interested in someone else in years.  Maybe you don’t give a shit, he’s a stranger, but Gabe’s… he deserves a lot more than he lets himself have, and it’s good to see him light up like that for someone, even if it was only for a minute.”  Jack pointed at Genji’s throat, at the obvious bruises there. “That looks serious. You sign up for that?” The question came across innocuously, like he was just curious, but there was something predatory in his eyes.  

 

Not a dragon, but something ready to strike if necessary.  Something fierce, and unmerciful, and Genji shook his head airily, and waved him off.

 

“It’s nothing I didn’t encourage,” he said, and Jack didn’t look happy, but some of the intensity in his gaze eased back.

 

“I’ve never seen you here, and that’s saying something, because I’m here a lot.  You ever sub for anyone before?” Jack asked, and Genji sighed, the alcohol making him relaxed when he should be wary.  Open, when he should be guarded.

 

Stupid, when he should know better.

 

“No, my… my  _ master  _ suggested I come here, but they won’t let me in the back without a- a card, or a number, or whatever.”  Bitter, and sad, but there was no way for Jack to read the subtext.

 

His pathetic, unreserved want of Zenyatta couldn’t be as obvious on the outside as it felt on the inside.

 

“Your master.  Shambali?” Jack asked, reaching out to tap his index finger against Genji’s bracelet in question.  Genji pulled his wrist into himself protectively and glared, unsure why it felt like such a violation.

 

He didn’t want anyone else’s hands on something that Zenyatta had given him, and Genji ran his own fingers over the beads, and nodded.

 

“Mmmm.  Well, it’s not any of my business what you do, but me and Gabe are here a lot of weekends.  You get a VIP card, get yourself cleaned up a little,” Jack paused, laying a finger alongside his nose, brutally unsubtle, “maybe you’ll run into us there.”  

 

Jack stood, tossing a few bills down on the bar with a nod towards the bartender.  He reached and lifted Genji’s chin like Gabriel had, more appraising than anything else, like he was curious what Gabriel had seen there.  Then he let it fall, still standing too close for it to be casual.

 

“And maybe you two don’t hit it off, maybe you hate each other, maybe you never see him again, I don’t know.  But what I do know from personal experience? Being Gabe’s pretty boy is definitely worth the hassle of getting your shit together and filling out a few papers,” Jack said, and there was heat in the words that was impossible to miss.  

 

Then Jack was gone, leaving Genji alone, dumbstruck and just the wrong side of drunk.

 

He had one more drink anyway, something more sedate, and the bartender didn’t look at him twice when he staggered awkwardly out the door.  Genji reached into his pocket as he flagged down a taxi, pulling out the bills Gabriel had given him. It was two hundred dollars in twenties, and Genji just stared for a while as the cabbie asked if he was getting in or not.

 

Genji went home to spilled sake and broken shards of mirror.  To dried blood on his bathroom counter. Empty boxes of takeout on his coffee table, and dirty clothes on his floor.  He crawled naked into his unmade bed, sheets coming loose, mattress sitting directly on the floorboards. Genji pulled his wrist up to his mouth, and pressed the beads of the bracelet into his lips, rubbing them idly back and forth.  His place was a fucking mess, but he could clean it tomorrow, could pick up the broken glass, wash his clothes, bandage his knuckles. 

 

He was a fucking mess, too, and he wasn’t sure how easy it would be to put himself back together, but he wanted to try.

 

It was probably his imagination, the way the yellow bead on Zenyatta’s bracelet thrummed dimly in the dark, and Genji thought of the sounds his orbs made when he meditated, and let the memory of it lull him to sleep.

  
  
  



	3. Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to [ gnome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnomeicecream/pseuds/gnomeicecream) for the beta, you're a gift.
> 
>  
> 
> "I ain't never been a keeper... and if I were you,[ I wouldn't love me, neither.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XkxjsiZoeo)"

Genji’s apartment looked worse now than it had when he started cleaning.  

 

Dishes he’d rather throw away than wash overwflowed from his sink, and the counters were sticky with old liquor and spilled juice from the careless pouring of too many poorly diluted screwdrivers.  Genji opened his fridge to empty it out, took one look inside, and closed it again. 

 

There wasn’t much in there, but he didn’t want to touch what was left without a pair of gloves.

 

He’d already gone to the store twice.  Once for trash bags, and after that for disinfectant and air freshener.  There were more things he needed, but his backpack would only hold so much before someone noticed he was robbing their store blind, and Genji didn’t feel making the effort to hide himself in earnest.  It was harder to get his dragon to cooperate when he was like this, irritable from a long night out, hungover and dehydrated.

 

Disgusted with himself, self-hatred fogging the air around him until he could barely breathe through it.

 

He had money, but not quite enough to pay his rent; he’d have to spend some time picking pockets in the business district to make up the rest.  There were people he could go see. Rich men with more money than good sense, and Genji could bat his eyelashes, and spread his legs, and get anything he asked for.  Except Genji didn’t want them putting their hands on him right then.

 

Didn’t want anyone putting their hands on him besides Zenyatta.  Maybe Gabriel, or his stupidly optimistic sub of a husband.

 

Genji sighed as he waded through his disaster of an apartment.  Every pile of clothes he moved unearthed more trash. Empty cans rattled under his feet, clattering down the hall as he trudged from room to room.  There was paraphernalia everywhere— an unlabeled bottle with four xanax left in it, a half dozen baggies with coke residue clinging to the inside, joints of varying lengths littering his ashtrays.  Not enough coke to do anything with, but the pills would have him loose and drifting pretty fast, and Genji was tempted to down them and give up on getting his place clean.

 

Except he wanted to go see Zenyatta and remember it afterwards.  Wanted to try and muddle through Overwatch’s VIP application on the laptop he’d jacked from some asshole frat boy’s dorm room a few weeks prior.  

 

Wanted to look in the mirror and see something other than the worst version of himself.  Zenyatta deserved better.

 

_ God,  _ Zenyatta deserved better, even if Genji didn’t.

 

He piled the last shards of broken mirror into a trash bag, hissing when one of the edges punctured the plastic and sliced into his calf.  It sank deep, and he let the bag fall to the ground as he jerked back, groaning when its contents spilled out all over the floor at his feet.  

 

Genji sighed, dug out the cleanest hoodie he could find, and headed to the pharmacy to lift some biotic ointment and gauze.

 

One thing at a time.  

 

Zenyatta had told Genji he needed to take better care of himself, and right now stealing band-aids and medical tape was the best he could do.

 

Genji would wrap up his wounds, and clean up his apartment, and maybe when he went to the temple he wouldn’t be so out of place.

 

He could sit at Zenyatta’s feet, and belong.

 

It took the better part of three days to get everything clean.  To get his laundry done, and his dishes washed, and his trash taken out.

 

Three days for Genji to complete Overwatch’s VIP application, which was frustrating on an entirely different level.  Genji understood the need for education— the emphasis on consent, and safety, respect. Intellectually it made sense, especially for a BDSM club, and it wasn’t hard to bullshit his way through the courses; to answer the questions correctly, tell them what they wanted to hear.

 

Genji could check all the right boxes, but that didn’t mean he agreed with them, at least not where he was concerned.  He didn’t want to be coddled like some fragile thing, coaxed gently through a scene, rewarded for being someone’s good boy.  

 

He wanted to hurt.  Wanted to take it home with him, let it linger in skin, settle in his guts.

 

Zenyatta was right, Genji wanted punishment, but what kind of punishment would it really be if all the ache was soothed away afterwards?

 

Genji finished the application anyway.  He wasn’t sure what else to do. Zenyatta wanted him to move forward, and Genji didn’t really know how, but he’d try anything.  Clean himself up, go to Overwatch, find a dom. 

 

Whatever it took.  

 

Genji would put himself back together again and again until he got it right, until all the ragged pieces of him fit together like they were supposed to.

 

Until Zenyatta looked at him, and didn’t see something broken.

 

-

 

Genji had never been to the temple when the sun was shining.  It was a different place entirely with light sifting bright through the branches of the trees outside, birdsong mingling with the sound of the bells, monks drifting in the halls.  Walking in through the entrance was a strange experience in and of itself, but he found himself at his well eventually. Leaned against it, closed his eyes, and waited for Zenyatta.

 

It was only a matter of time.

 

“It is good to see you in the daylight for once,” Zenyatta said, and Genji blinked his eyes open, and smiled.

 

“And why is that,  _ master?”   _ Genji said, stressing the word like it would feel less foreign in his mouth that way.  “Easier to see my pretty face?” He meant it as a joke, something lighthearted and teasing, but then Zenyatta floated closer.

  
Reached out and cupped his face, metal thumb rubbing over his cheekbone, head tilting to the side as he considered Genji.

 

“One of many advantages, yes, yet it is always good to see you regardless of the hour.  What brings you to the temple, Genji? Through the doors, no less. I wasn’t sure you knew how to operate them.”

 

Genji couldn’t help leaning into Zenyatta’s touch, cheeks hot and eyes heavy even as he huffed a laugh.  He closed his fingers around Zenyatta’s wrist, just as he had the first time; holding him there, unwilling to let go.  

 

“You called me your student.  If that’s what I am, then teach me.”

 

Zenyatta’s fingers eased into his hair, and Genji looked up at him, waiting.  Hopeful.

 

He wanted anything Zenyatta would give him, and if this is where he had to start, so be it.

 

“What is it you seek to know?”  Zenyatta asked, and Genji closed his eyes as Zenyatta pet softly through his hair, unsure of what to say.

 

Anything.  Everything.

 

Whatever Zenyatta would teach him, Genji wanted to learn.

 

“Teach me how to meditate,” Genji said, and Zenyatta hummed, orbs no longer circling only around himself.

 

Now they twisted around Genji, too, and Genji watched them move, lost in the motions.

 

“Something easy, then,” Zenyatta replied, one of his orbs lighting up gold, and then everything was safe, and familiar.

 

Genji closed his eyes, bathed in warm, honey soft light, and nodded.

 

Something easy, to start.

 

-

 

Overwatch’s festivities were in full swing when Genji arrived that Saturday.

 

He’d finished his application and waited for it to process, knowing the information he gave them for the background check would hold up to scrutiny.  It was something Hanzo had prepared for him long ago. Not only for Genji; for both of them. Identities they could use if they ever needed to run, names and backgrounds the clan couldn’t track.  When Genji left he’d found a pair of everything in the places Hanzo had told him to look. ID cards, passports, bags full of clothes and money and supplies. 

 

It hurt worse to leave half of it behind, knowing that Hanzo had thought about it once.  Going with Genji, leaving Japan.

 

Having a life outside of their father’s ghost.

 

Genji shook the thought away as he wove through the crowd in the outer bar.  When he approached VIP this time there was a different person standing guard at the entrance;  a giant of a man with white hair and scars on his face.

 

A collar wrapped around his throat, thin and dwarfed by the rest of him, and it was so disorienting to think of this behemoth on his knees that Genji got caught staring when the man finished scanning his application ID number into his tablet.  

 

“Is pretty, yes?”

 

Genji blinked, meeting the man’s eyes and managing a grin.

 

“Yes,” Genji replied, only a little stilted, pocketing his VIP card when the man handed it back.  He clapped Genji on the shoulder, hard enough that it staggered him a bit, and he stumbled before regaining his footing.

 

“Maybe you get one too someday, who knows.  Have fun! We don’t bite. Not unless you ask nicely!”  

 

He let out a booming laugh and patted Genji on the back again, this time ushering him through the doorway, and Genji shook his head as he slipped inside.

 

Genji had worn the same kind of thing he always wore to a club; tight jeans slung low on his hips, slashed from top to bottom, more skin showing than denim.  Fresh black nail polish, eyeliner laid on thick, a dark, mostly sheer tank top that clung and stretched when he moved. A tangle of corded leather bracelets sat snug on one wrist, Zenyatta’s prayer bracelet on the other, the gold and purple stones looking eerie in the light of the club.  He hadn’t really considered whether or not he would stand out at a bondage club as opposed to a bar, but he needn’t have worried.

 

As far as outfits went, his was mild in comparison.  There were people dressed in all manner of fetish gear— Dommes in latex and stilettos, subs wearing nothing but lingerie and collars, others in leather from head to toe.  There was a lot to take in, and Genji paused just inside the doorway, eyes roving over the action.

 

Someone was spread out on a spanking bench off to one side, a Dom standing over them with a wide leather paddle, arm swinging as he delivered blow after blow.  Genji’s gaze caught on a black metal cage in one corner, a gagged sub locked within, her Domme cooing at her from the other side of the bars. Scattered around the couches and chairs were subs kneeling, heads pillowed on their Doms knees or thighs, hands stroking through their hair.  

 

It was only as he scanned the crowd, disappointment welling in him, that Genji realized he hadn’t really come here for look for just any Dom.

 

He’d come here looking for Gabriel and Jack, and Genji swore under his breath.  He’d hoped to run into them, maybe, but Genji had planned to try his hand at picking up some other Dom if they weren’t.  Flirting at least, maybe negotiating a scene, planning something.

 

Except the idea of getting on his knees for some random person had Genji’s stomach turning.  He thought of Gabriel’s hands on his face, how he’d tucked money into Genji’s pocket. The way his voice sounded,  _ get yourself home safe, pretty boy,  _ and Genji was suddenly, viciously aware that no one else would do.

 

“You look a bit lost, love.  First time?” 

 

Genji had gravitated towards the bar without noticing, and a voice startled him out of his reverie.  A short brunette with spiky hair and wide eyes smiled at him, and Genji smiled back, sitting down on a barstool with a sigh.

 

“Mmm, something like that.  I was looking for someone, but I don’t think they’re here, and there’s not much I can get up to on my own without a lot of…” Genji paused, gesturing vaguely at the crowd with splayed fingers, nose wrinkled in distaste.  The girl behind the bar hummed, head cocked to side, eyes bright.

 

“Oh, I dunno.  That really depends on how adventurous you’re feeling.”

 

-

 

The room Genji found himself in was relatively small.  It was painted a dark navy, soft inset lights glowing overhead, one wall made up entirely of mirrored glass.  A wide, padded strip of leather ran along the the floor in front of the glass, and the center of the room was dominated by what looked like an oversized leather footstool.  A voice sounded out overhead, robotic tones pouring from a speaker Genji couldn’t see, feminine and friendly.

 

“Welcome, user.  Would you like to enter a name?”

 

A keypad hummed to life on the right edge of the glass in front of him, and Genji walked up, tapping at the keys.  Once he clicked submit Genji watched his name appear at the top of the glass in blocky blue lettering.

 

“Entry accepted,” the voice trilled, sounding pleased.  “Would you like to initialize a countdown?”

 

A set of options appeared on the keypad for differing intervals of time; zero, five, ten, and fifteen minutes.  Genji clicked the second selection and sat down on the low stool, palming himself through his jeans.

 

“Countdown accepted, initializing now.  Say ‘skip’ to end this tutorial.”

 

There was a pause, and Genji cocked his head, half-listening as the AI rattled off instructions.

 

“Press the red button on the keypad or say stop at any time to halt the countdown.  Mirror will enter active state in: four minutes, fifty-one seconds. Once the mirror has entered its active state, the following verbal commands will be recognized: ‘red’ or ‘off’ will deactivate the mirror, returning it to its passive state.  ‘Glass’ will render the mirror clear, allowing you to view the observation room and its inhabitants. ‘Mirror’ will return the glass to its two-way mirrored state. If you wish to hear these instructions again, say ‘repeat’. Mirror will enter its active state in: four minutes, fourteen seconds.”

 

Genji glanced up at the timer, his name pulsing brighter every few moments, drawing his eyes.  There was a matching display on the outside of the door letting everyone in the VIP area know the room was occupied; who was in it, and how long until the show started.  He wasn’t sure what kind of an audience there would be for this sort of thing, but the light next to his name indicated there was at least one person in observation room already.  Heat coiled in Genji, and he rubbed more purposefully at his cock, feeling it harden in his clothes.

 

Getting off for random, faceless strangers this way was vividly appealing.  Strangers who couldn’t touch him, couldn’t speak to him, forced to watch in silence from the other side of the glass.  To accept what he gave them; nothing more, nothing less. There was even a second door on the opposite side of the room leading not out into the VIP area, but into a back hallway.  Where the scene rooms available for rent were located, according to the girl behind the bar. 

 

_ In case you’re feeling shy after,  _ Lena said with a wink, and Genji had laughed. 

 

Shy wasn’t really his bag, but it was still enticing, that Genji didn’t even have to look at these people again.  He could get off and then vanish, getting what he wanted and giving nothing back. That wasn’t the only benefit.

 

If Gabriel and Jack were there somewhere, blending unseen with the crowd, Genji’s name above the door would be impossible to miss.  Bright blue and unmistakable, and Genji unbuckled his belt, and writhed out of his shirt, running an idle hand over the rings in his nipples.  The AI kept reading the time left on his countdown aloud,  _ three minutes, two minutes, one minute. _

 

Genji was hard already, and he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, knees spread wide.  Sitting up straight and staring at himself in the mirror, Genji admired the lean, muscled lines of his abdomen, the curve of his biceps, the V of his hips.  High cheekbones, and pretty bedroom eyes, hair falling into them in bright green tangles. Genji wasn’t narcissistic, really. There was too much self-loathing lurking under his skin for that, scars both within and without.  Almost invisible in the dim lights of the room, but if someone looked close enough, they’d see them everywhere— see Genji for what he was.

 

Beautiful but damaged.  

 

A mess, more effort to clean up than he was worth.  Someone better written off as a loss, and left behind.

 

_ Like you’ve done with Hanzo,  _ Genji thought briefly before shoving it down with merciless brutality.

 

The clan had done one thing for Genji, at least.  His body was a weapon, honed into something dangerous and precise, and it looked the part.  He flexed his stomach, and squeezed his cock, the AI counting down the final seconds of the timer.

 

_ Ten, nine, eight, seven,  _ and Genji scooted forward on the stool, perched precariously on its edge.

 

_ Six, five, four.   _ His dragon roiled in his skin, feeding off of Genji’s excitement, restless with anticipation.  Genji tensed his thighs, lifting his heels off the ground, balls of his feet flat against the floor.

 

_ Three, two, one,  _ and the mirror shimmered almost imperceptibly, the light on the display flickering from red to green.

 

“Exhibition commencing,” the AI said, and Genji smirked at himself in the mirror, knowing whoever was on the other side could see it now.

 

Genji couldn’t see through the glass right then, but his dragon could sense the people there, could  _ feel  _ their gazes on him.  He bit his bottom lip, lashes fluttering, eyes lidded.  Sultry in a practiced way, but Genji knew what kind of effect it had on people; how it made them groan, or cling to him harder, swearing under their breath.  

 

The way it made them want to tear him to pieces by any means necessary.

 

He let his mouth fall open a little as he started stroking his cock in earnest, chin raised high, maintaining eye contact with his reflection.  Genji wondered how many people were watching him, wondered who they were, what they were thinking. He ran his thumb in wet circles over his crown, pausing to lift it to his mouth and lap up the slick there.  Genji licked over his palm as well, messier than he needed to be, deliberately obscene.

 

When he took himself in hand again the slide was easier, and Genji let out a quiet whine, well aware that they could hear him through the speakers hidden in the room.  Genji hadn’t been fucked in over a week, hadn’t done more than jack off once or twice in the cold water of his shower, and even just a few minutes of working himself had Genji dangerously close to finishing.

 

Being watched was drugging.  Knowing that people stood unseen just on the other side of the mirror; talking about him in low voices, maybe, or adjusting themselves in their clothes.  Turned on just by the sight of him, and Genji thrilled at it, power shifting higher in his veins. He tugged on his nipple rings one at a time, pulling them until it hurt, hissing at the sting.  It felt good, the sharp ache of it, and he moaned and did it again. 

 

It wasn’t long before Genji’s curiosity got the best of him, as he’d known it would.  Turnabout was fair play, after all, and Genji had to know who was watching.

 

_ Had  _ to.

 

“Glass,” he huffed out, and the AI beeped in recognition, green light on the display overhead flashing to blue.

 

“Glass state activated,” it replied, and the mirror shimmered again before going transparent, revealing his audience.

 

There were almost a dozen people crowded into the room, all staring at him, several smiling now that they’d been exposed.  A couple of them waved, another blowing a kiss, but Genji couldn’t be bothered to pay attention.

 

Not when Gabriel and Jack were standing front and center.  Gabriel wore a wry grin, arms crossed over his chest, eating Genji alive with his eyes.  Jack’s smile was gentler but still predatory.

 

Still promising. 

 

Heat swallowed him whole, and Genji hadn’t planned on moving but his body had other ideas.  He was on his knees in front of them in one sinuous movement, the padded leather along the glass suddenly making a lot more sense, thick and soft underneath him.  The people around Gabe and Jack shoved at them good naturedly; cheering by the looks of it, whistling, raucous and amused. Genji couldn’t look away, staring up at them from his knees— at Gabriel especially, and Genji arched his spine, gasping as he stroked himself faster.  

 

He laid his left palm flat against glass, fingers splayed, lifting up higher on his knees.  Genji’s shoulders rose and fell, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, overwhelmed, dizzy with it.  Gabriel’s eyes on him were a physical thing, lighting him up from the inside out. Genji threw his knees impossibly wider, shuddering as he fought down his orgasm.  Bit his lip again, but there was nothing practiced about it, nothing artificial.

 

Genji was lost in sensation, begging Gabriel with every inch of himself— toes curling in his shoes, muscles tensing.  He whined out helpless little noises, body stretched taut and ready to break.

 

It was only when Gabriel nodded down at him, a cocky, indulgent look on his face, that Genji realized he’d been waiting for permission.

 

God, Genji was  _ fucked. _

 

He came in stuttering bursts, hips rocking as he jerked himself through it, come streaking the glass in front of him.  His ears rang, and everything was far away and hazy for a moment, the whole world a fog. He smiled drunkenly up at Gabriel and Jack, wide and honest and euphoric.  His hair was in his eyes, bones loose, Genji sweaty and sated.

 

Then Gabriel crouched down in front of Genji, one elbow propped up on his knee, holding Genji’s gaze carefully.  A brow cocked up in question, and Gabe tapped at his mouth with his index finger, then reached out and tapped the glass.  Right where Genji’s come was dripping, a silent question, and Genji probably should have hesitated.

 

Should have, but he didn’t, eyes locked on Gabriel’s as he stuck out his tongue and lapped at the glass, licking up his own mess in slow, meticulous strokes.  Gabriel didn’t look away, watching every shift of Genji’s mouth, running his index finger down the glass where Genji’s face was. Tracing his features through the mirror, and when Genji sat back on his heels Gabriel smiled.  Stood, and inclined his head towards the VIP area, an invitation if there ever was one. 

 

Genji smirked, bit his lip again, and shrugged.

 

“Off,” Genji said, and there was that subtle shimmer again, light on the display flashing back to red.

 

“Passive state activated, exhibition complete.”

 

As soon as he stood up on the kneeler, blue light strobed bright over the glass, a quiet hissing sound thrumming through the room.  When it faded away the mess Genji had left was gone, nothing left behind but his reflection. Hard light. Genji had read about in his application, skimming over the sections about sanitization with minimal interest, but it was convenient if nothing else.  He tugged on his shirt, and buckled his jeans, eyeing the door to the VIP area with wary hesitation. 

 

Gabriel and Jack would be waiting for him, but Genji wasn’t sure exactly why.

 

A proposition, maybe.  To ask him on a date, or talk about boundaries.  Hard limits, soft limits, his likes and dislikes, and Genji already felt tired thinking about it.

 

Or Gabriel might just want to tell him he was a good boy, and nausea rolled up in him, heavy and overpowering.  

 

Genji thought about the pile of stolen cash and credit cards back at his apartment; enough to make rent and buy groceries and pay all his bills.  Thought about last week, and how he’d let a stranger shove him to his knees, and pry his mouth open with dirty fingers. About the cut on the inside of his bottom lip, still sore where he’d gotten fucked into the bricks of a back alley a little too enthusiastically.

 

Thought about Hanzo back in Hanamura, blood on his hands and poison in his ears.  Surrounded by their family, utterly alone.

 

So fucking alone, and it was all Genji’s fault.

 

Genji was a lot of things, but he wasn’t anyone’s good boy.

 

He  _ wasn’t.   _ Didn’t know if he could be.

 

Wasn’t sure he wanted to try.

 

Genji left out the back and sank into the shadows of the city, wearing them like a second skin as slipped through the streets.  His dragon reared up, briefly unhappy they were leaving Gabriel behind, but quieting when it became obvious where Genji was headed.

 

The temple was still, as it always was when Genji came at night, stars overhead and moon bright in the sky.  Zenyatta was already next to the well, watching as Genji leapt down from the courtyard wall and landed in a crouch.  Genji closed the distance between them, and sat down on the grass in a heap at Zenyatta’s feet. Threw his arms around his waist, face shoved into the metal of his stomach, fingers clutching at cool steel.

 

“I need you,” he said desperately.  Begging, and warmth enveloped him, Zenyatta’s orb circling Genji as though it had always been there.

 

As though it belonged there, and nowhere else.

 

He sifted through Genji’s hair with his fingers, lowering himself closer to the ground to let Genji cling tighter.  Closer, closer.

 

“You have me,” Zenyatta replied, and Genji shook at the words, safe and whole in the glow of Zenyatta’s light.


	4. Melt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [don't forget to breathe...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kEZ9SHGc-Oo)

Genji hadn’t planned on going to the temple every day, but it’s where he found himself, time and time again.

 

His apartment was stifling.  Too quiet, too clean, too still.  Anytime Genji spent more than a few hours awake there he got twitchy, fidgeting and picking at his fingernails, knee bouncing as he ground his teeth.  He flipped mindlessly back and forth through apps on his phone, or played a game for a few minutes before exiting it in annoyance and switching to a different one.  

 

It felt like being in Hanamura all over again, the walls closing in on him until it was hard to breathe.  Genji had to get out, but no matter where he planned on going when he set off, he ended up in the same place without fail. 

 

Sitting in the shadows of the courtyard, cross-legged with his eyes closed, Zenyatta’s orbs chiming from nearby as they meditated together.  

 

Genji didn’t think he was getting anything out of it.  Not the things Zenyatta wanted for him, anyway— tranquility, self-awareness, a release from the guilt that ate away at him underneath his skin.

 

Mostly Genji just got to be close to Zenyatta.  Got to listen to Zenyatta’s voice, feel the metal of his fingers in his hair.  Bask in the glow of his orbs, the light easing all the anxiety from Genji’s muscles, soothing the shadows in him that ached to be hurt.

 

At least for a while.

 

It took longer than it should have for Genji to realize it wasn’t only him who was eager to see Zenyatta day after day.

 

His dragon was alive like she hadn’t been in years, testing the edges of Genji’s control; waiting until he was calm, hazy in the bliss of Zenyatta’s light, and struggling to break free.  

 

Midori had never sought affection from anyone but Genji or Hanzo, and feeling her try to writhe out of his skin for Zenyatta was terrifying.

 

Genji wanting Zenyatta’s attention was one thing; his  _ dragon  _ wanting it was something else entirely.  Something territorial, and ancient.

 

Something hungry that wouldn’t quiet until she had been sated.

 

It had been almost two weeks since he saw Gabriel and Jack at Overwatch.  Genji had wanted to go back the next weekend, desperately— too desperately.  It felt pathetic, and Genji couldn’t find the courage to drag himself out of the house at all on Saturday, wallowing in his bed instead.  The rest of the week he spent mostly in the temple— meditating with Zenyatta. Trailing after him through the halls, watching the other monks and devotees with silent curiosity.  No one but the resident Shambali were allowed in the innermost temples and courtyards, but anytime it seemed as though someone might question his presence, they glanced at the prayer bracelet on his wrist and stayed quiet.

 

_ Who is that,  _ he heard one monk ask of their companion, soft and uncertain.

 

The answer came immediately,  _ oh, that’s Genji. _ _ He is Zenyatta’s. _

 

Casual, and easy, like they were talking about the weather,  _ he is Zenyatta’s. _

 

As though belonging to Zenyatta didn’t make the whole world shift under his feet, then settle to leave him reeling.

 

Now it was Friday again, and he sat in the central courtyard with Zenyatta, sunlight dappling through the branches of the trees overhead.  They’d finished up their meditation already, and Genji had his head on Zenyatta’s thigh, metal fingers petting through his hair. Tracing his cheekbones, thumbing his lips.  Midori stretched and buzzed in his skin, the tattoo over his ribs itching as she made her frustration known. She wanted  _ out,  _ and she wanted out  _ right then;   _ Genji could keep her contained without too much effort, but it wasn’t something that would last forever.  

 

Sooner or later she was going to shake his hold, whether he liked it or not.

 

“You could let her roam in one of the inner temples.  No one would see her there. She would have a chance to breathe.”

 

It wasn’t the first time they’d talked about Midori.  Zenyatta had brought her up the second time they met,  _ the spirit you carry within you is weary, my student. _

 

_ You should both rest for a while in the light of the Iris. _

 

Genji was never going to complain about spending his hours drowsing against Zenyatta, orbs circling him close, golden light making the world soft and warm.  He blinked sleepily up at him, arms around Zenyatta’s waist, eyes heavy and body relaxed.

 

It wasn’t the first time they’d talked about Midori, but it  _ was  _ the first time Zenyatta had mentioned Genji summoning her.  Genji had told Zenyatta about his family; his childhood, his father, the clan.  Not everything, certainly.

 

There were things that lived in Genji’s memory that needed to stay buried.  Bones better left unearthed.

 

Ruins less haunting, so long as they were kept away from the sun.

 

Still, he’d told Zenyatta enough.  The things he’d done for the clan; the lives he’d taken, Midori at his side, snarling and hungry for blood.  The things he’d done to himself.

 

The things he’d done to  _ Hanzo. _

 

Genji laid a palm over his ribs, pressing at Midori where she was splayed out under the thin cotton of his shirt.  Rubbing circles over her like it might soothe her.

 

Reaching for her like an old wound that flared up when he least expected it.

 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, master.”

 

Zenyatta kept his hands moving in Genji’s hair, voice gentle, the sound of bells and windchimes ringing in the distance.

 

“Think on it a while.  Ask yourself what harm would come from calling her here, and why you are so afraid of seeing her again.”

 

Genji pictured Midori in the temple— curled up in Zenyatta’s lap much like he was then, purring with his long fingers sifting through her feathers.  Pictured her blissful and at peace under Zenyatta’s hands, lit up honey golden, light playing over her scales.

 

Thought about how he would surely fuck things up with Zenyatta sooner or later, and never have any of it again.  

 

How Midori would ache along with him, like she always did when Genji hurt himself.

 

When he fell, and landed wrong, both of them bloody and shattered.

 

He closed his eyes, and clung to Zenyatta’s clothes, and held his breath.

 

“You need not think on it  _ now.   _ You have plans for tomorrow evening, do you not?  Something to look forward to, first. One thing at a time.”

 

One thing at a time.

 

Genji breathed in deep, and buried his face in Zenyatta’s thigh.

 

Breathed out and slowly, deliberately, let everything else go.

 

-

 

“Any more to drink and I’ll have to mark your hand, which will make you ineligible to participate in any play, if you’re planning to head back into VIP.  One drink limit, no doubles, no shots,” the bartender said, sliding Genji his drink with nod. 

 

Genji took it, shaking his head as he took a sip.

 

“Nnn-nnnn,” he mumbled, digging into his pocket for some cash, “I’m good, thanks.”  

 

He wasn’t about to ruin his chances at having some real fun just for a second daiquiri.  When he tried to hand the bartender a wrinkled twenty she waved him away, already halfway down the bar and serving up someone else’s drink.

 

“Like you said, you’re good.  Gabriel’s got you covered. Said if you showed up to let you know he and Jack were here, and that if you can’t find them on the main floor to take a peek in the back hall.”

 

_ Gabriel’s got you covered. _

 

Genji tried to ignore the way that pooled warm and low in his belly, nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with Gabriel.  Gabriel going out of his way to take care of Genji. Leaving him a message, when he’d been worried Gabriel might have lost interest after he’d run off two weeks prior.  Gabriel making sure Genji could find them.

 

Genji sucked his drink down in no time flat and set the empty glass down on the bar, needing the little bit of courage he gleaned from it to square his shoulders and head towards VIP.  The redhead from his first visit was back again, scanning his license with a smirk.

 

“Enjoy yourself,” she said, sarcasm edging into her tone, and Genji winked, and slipped past her.

 

Things were in full swing when he emerged, busier than last time by far.  Every table and couch seemed to be occupied, most of the various pieces of dungeon furniture in use.  There were people being spanked, and whipped with crops, or floggers. A pair of blindfolded subs were locked in the cage in the corner, back to back, collars clipped together.  The kneeler that ran along the wall had subs leashed to the rings above it at various intervals, some of them cuffed or gagged. Letters flashed across the display over the room Genji had used during his previous visit,  _ Exhibition In Progress, Mercy and Olivia. _

 

Genji scanned the crowd, trying not to appear too eager but unable to rein in his disappointment. 

 

Gabriel and Jack were nowhere to be seen.  There were a lot of people, certainly, but the two of them wouldn’t exactly blend in anywhere.  His eyes flitted to the doorway in the corner, blue lights outlining the frame. The scene rooms available for rent were back there, both private and semi-private; club etiquette dictated that if a door was open anyone was invited to watch the scene taking place, but needed permission to participate.  Genji wondered if there were any open doors back there, right then.

 

Wondered if he’d find Gabriel and Jack through one of them, waiting.

 

Zenyatta’s voice lilted in his ear as surely as if he were right next to Genji,  _ it pains me to see you suffer. _

 

_ You deserve more than this, Genji. _

 

He really didn’t, but Zenyatta did.

 

Genji stood up straighter, swallowed around the knot in his throat, and headed across the main floor and into the back hallways.

 

Doors stretched out on either side of the corridor in both directions, painted black with digital scanners lit up on the wall beside them.  Most of them were shut tight, but light and noise spilled out of a few; soft voices murmuring, cries of bliss, the sound of leather on skin.  Genji wandered off to the right, slowing when he came to the first open doorway to glance inside. 

 

A sub had her wrists cuffed, hands pulled high over her head and bound with chains to a ring in the ceiling.  She stood on the toes of one foot, the other leg hooked over a Domme’s shoulder as she studiously ate her out.  A cluster of several women sat on the couch nearby, a pair of them kissing, hands in one another’s clothes. One of them shot him a dubious look, and Genji smiled politely, and kept walking.  

 

There were three more open doors ahead of him; the first revealed a male sub on his knees, sucking his Dom off as the man chatted distractedly with a group of friends.  The Dom had a fist in his sub’s hair, guiding him in a lazy rhythm as he gestured with his other hand, talking about a movie he’d seen recently like he wasn’t getting a noisy, enthusiastic blowjob.  

 

The second room had two people fucking on a couch as a sub watched from several feet away, gagged with their hands bound behind their back, whining through the fabric and writhing in place.  They looked up for a moment when Genji’s movement drew their eyes, meeting his gaze with raw desperation. As though he could help them somehow, and Genji shrugged, raising his palms up with a grin and mouthing  _ sorry  _ at them as he kept heading down the hall.

 

The last open door was at the very end of the hallway, and the light shining out of it was different than the others.  After a lifetime in Hanamura, steeped in anachronisms and outdated traditions, it wasn’t hard for Genji to recognize the flickering glow of candlelight.  

 

Wasn’t hard to recognize Gabriel’s voice, either, the praise reaching Genji just before he stepped into the doorway.

 

“Oh,  _ good boy,  _ Jackie.”

 

Genji was glad no one noticed him when he first caught sight of the scene taking place, because he felt his eyes flare bright for a moment before he could blink the iridescence from them.

 

A half-dozen thick, white pillar candles dotted the tables around the room, throwing eerie shadows, wicks alight as wax pooled in them.  There was a couch along one wall, a trio of observers nestled into it; a Dom and a pair of subs, from the looks of it. Genji didn’t blame them for not noticing his arrival.

 

It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t tear their eyes away.

 

Jack was kneeling in the center of the room on a swath of white fabric, ankles cuffed, the rings clipped onto the ends of a wide metal bar that kept his feet apart.  His wrists were behind him, too— the cuffs fastened closer to the middle of the bar, forcing him to lean back and puff out his chest, spine arched to accommodate his bonds.  He wore a collar around his throat, simple black with a silver ring, lined with something soft. Naked except for a pair of briefs and his collar and cuffs, Jack’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

 

Gabriel stood above him, fully dressed with a candle in hand, dripping thick streams of wax over Jack’s skin.  There was already a patchwork of dried wax visible on his chest, and stomach, and thighs. Like they’d been at it a while.  

 

Like they’d been trying to make it last.

 

Jack hissed as Gabriel let fat drops of wax land on his nipple— shuddering but not trying to get out of the way, holding himself carefully in place.

 

“Beautiful,” Gabriel said, low and reverent. 

 

Genji must have made a noise, because everyone in the room turned to stare at him in unison.  Gabriel saw Genji just inside the doorway and smiled, one corner of his mouth quirking up. Something that would have been smug if not for how soft his eyes were, looking Genji up and down with blatant appreciation.  

 

He was dressed in the same skin-tight shredded jeans as last time, tucked into his combat boots, but had worn a long sleeved fishnet top instead— thumbs hooked through holes in the webbing, pulling the mesh taut over his arms.  It left his tattoo visible, which Midori liked, the dragon preening happily in his skin.

 

Left his nipple rings visible, which Gabriel seemed to like, eyes lingering there before finding Genji’s again.

 

“Genji,” he said, setting the candle in his hand down, “glad you could make it.”

 

The three observers on the couch got to their feet at that, grinning conspiratorially at Genji as they slipped past him and out the door.  They left it open, and Genji listened to their footsteps fade as they headed down the hall, glancing over his shoulder for a moment before turning back.  Gabriel and Jack were both watching him, even if Jack’s gaze was less than lucid; his cheeks were flushed pink, skin damp with sweat, cock hard and leaving a wet patch on his briefs.  

 

“The bartender said I might find you back here,” Genji answered, unsure of what else to say.

 

Flirtation came easily to Genji; he knew what men wanted from him, and knew how to get what he wanted from them in return.  

 

Except he didn’t want the usual things from Gabriel; didn’t want money, or gifts, or a quick, meaningless fuck.

 

And looking at Jack in the floor, collared and gorgeous and well versed in being good for Gabriel, Genji didn’t understand why Gabriel wanted anything at all from him.

 

Anything Genji could give him, Gabriel already had.

 

It left him queasy, left him unsettled; being powerless had never suited Genji very well.

 

Gabriel pinned Genji down with a stare, inclining his head towards the couch.

 

“You can sit and watch.  Jackie and I would  _ like  _ you to sit and watch.  Other people might wander in as long as the door is open, but you can close it any time you want, and it’ll be just the three of us.  If you stick around until I finish taking care of Jackie, we can talk some things out. If you’re interested.”

 

Gabriel grabbed an ice cube from a bowl next to the candles, stepping behind Jack and crouching down.  He didn’t look away from Genji as he ran the ice over Jack’s skin, over the wax, water dripping as it melted under his fingers.  He palmed Jack’s cock with his other hand, giving it a few rough strokes through the fabric, smiling wider as Jack shoved into the contact.

 

Jack whined, glancing up at Genji with frantic desperation, mouth open as his cheeks lit brighter.  Gabriel hummed like it pleased him, licking his lips as he ate Genji up with his eyes.

 

Maybe there were things Gabriel wanted from Genji that he didn’t already have; things that Jack wanted, too.

 

Things Genji wanted to give them, and he slowly, gingerly, eased the door closed.

 

Gabriel’s grin went wicked, and he pressed a kiss to Jack’s temple, standing and shaking droplets of water off his fingers.

 

“Take a seat then, pretty boy.”

 

There was nothing patronizing about the words this time.  They washed over Genji, laden with heat, and Genji’s legs were a little wobbly as he made his way to the couch.  He dropped down into the plush leather with a rough exhale, palms flat on his thighs, knees rocking wide before settling again.  

 

Genji took in all the details he’d been distracted to notice earlier— how worn Jack’s collar was, like he’d been using the same one for years and years.  The scars on his abdomen and chest, some of them knife wounds, others clearly from bullets. The Shimada in Genji catalogued them with cool detachment; which ones could have been fatal, which ones were merely flesh wounds.  

 

Most of Gabriel’s skin was covered, but there was a scar around his throat Genji hadn’t seen before; like someone had tried to slit his throat, and failed to sink it in deep enough.  A narrow silver chain vanished into the collar of Gabriel’s shirt, a rectangular bump visible between his collarbones; a pair of dog tags. Jack’s, if Genji were to guess, though Jack didn’t have a matching set. 

 

Gabriel pulled Genji out of his head when he picked up another candle, the cup filled to the brim with melted wax.  He held it aloft over Jack’s chest, socked foot slipping between Jack’s thighs to grind against the bulge of his cock.

 

“You ready, baby?”

 

Jack was more than ready.

 

Genji, less so.

 

He watched, his breathing ragged, as Gabriel poured wax over Jack, working Jack’s cock with his foot from time to time.  Watched with his lips parted and eyes wide as Gabriel peel the dried layers off Jack’s skin, running ice over him, pressing the cubes between his lips now and then.  Leaned forward in his seat and watched Jack lick the ice out of Gabriel’s fingers, sucking them into his mouth along with it, rutting into Gabriel’s foot as he mouthed at him eagerly.  

 

Held his breath as Jack shook out his orgasm like it was breaking him, Gabriel’s palm on his cheek, leaning into the touch with his eyes closed and his mouth open.  

 

_ That’s it, just like that, so good for me. _

 

He’d barely finished shivering through his climax when Gabriel unclipped his wrists and ankles from the spreader bar.  Jack wasted no time; he lifted up on his knees, arms wrapping around Gabriel’s thighs, urging him towards the couch. Gabriel sat down next to Genji, close enough that they were almost touching.  Jack nuzzled almost drunkenly into the bulge in Gabriel’s pants, Gabriel petting through his hair. He caught Genji’s eye, tilting his head down towards Jack with one brow cocked up.

 

“You comfortable watching this?  It can wait, if you aren’t.” Jack grumbled in disagreement, and Gabriel tugged on the white blond strands in his fingers.  “Oh, shut it, you’ll get yours.”

 

Genji shook his head, gnawing on his bottom lip, rubbing the heel of his palm against his jeans.

 

“No, it’s… it’s fine, let him,” he gasped out, more than a little breathless.  “Is it… okay, can I…?” Genji trailed off and put a hand on his belt buckle, unashamed of just how hard he was, how desperate to get off.  Gabriel just smiled.

 

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, really.”

 

Jack worked Gabriel’s fly open and pulled out his cock, and Genji couldn’t help the noise he made, high and wounded.  It was prettier than a dick had any right to be— thick and uncut, crown wet with precome. 

 

The fact that Genji couldn’t touch Gabriel was a goddamn tragedy.  It must have shown on his face, because Jack shot him a sympathetic look, eyes black and dazed.  He swallowed Gabriel down like it was nothing, nose buried in the dark curls at the base of his shaft, body gone loose.  All the lingering tension drained out of him, and he made a contented noise as he started bobbing on Gabriel’s cock. Slow and languid, like he could suck Gabriel’s dick all night and never get tired of it.  Genji understood the feeling.

 

If he had Gabriel in his mouth, he’d be in no hurry, either.

 

Genji unbuckled his belt, tugging himself out of his briefs without hesitation, watching Jack hollow his cheeks and take Gabriel to the hilt again and again.  It was only when he started stroking himself, helpless to hold back, that he found himself being watched, too. Looking at him.

 

Looking through him.

 

Gabriel and Jack’s gazes on him were like gasoline on a fire already burning out of control, and Genji finished well before Gabriel did, lifting up the hem of his shirt and coming wet and hot over his stomach in shaky bursts.  Gabriel passed him some wipes, and Genji cleaned himself up, drowsy and relaxed as Jack kept at it. 

 

Once he’d come everything felt different.  More intimate, somehow, Genji sitting sideways on the couch, staring as Jack swallowed Gabriel down.  Like he was intruding on something agonizingly private, Gabriel’s hands in Jack’s hair, Jack’s arms curled possessively around his thighs.

 

Intimate, and private, except they both kept glancing at Genji.  Catching his gaze, sharing a smile.

 

Gabriel reached over and laid his hand on top of Genji’s, lacing their fingers together as he came into Jack’s mouth, head thrown back against the couch.  Jack kept sucking until Gabriel coaxed him off; he was clearly unhappy about being stopped, but obediently tucked Gabriel back into his pants and laid his head on his thigh.  Lids half closed, utterly content. 

 

The effortless familiarity between them made Genji want to look away.

 

Made him want to press closer, and be a part of it.  It was familiar in another way, too.

 

It was the same way Genji spent his days with Zenyatta in the temple, and something deep inside Genji twisted, and pulled.

 

“You can go now, if you like, we won’t stop you.  Or you can stay and talk, let us work something out.  Up to you.”

 

Jack was watching him carefully, looking drugged, all but purring as Gabriel traced his jaw and cheek and throat.  Still cuffed, still collared, insinuated between Gabriel’s knees like a beloved pet. Genji’s heart felt sore in his chest.

 

Gabriel was still holding his hand.  Jack laid a palm on Genji’s knee.

 

The two of them were beautiful in the candlelight, tangled up together, reaching out to touch him.

 

“Start talking, then,” Genji said, smirking and hoping it hid the nerves coiled in his guts.

 

Gabriel smiled, sly and triumphant.

 

Genji was hiding nothing, and they both knew it.

 

“All right.”

 

Gabriel started talking.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me nice things or come yell at me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/scifictioness?lang=en) If you're not sure what a spreader bar is, or what it looks like exactly, you can check some out [ here.](https://www.stockroom.com/adjustable-stocks-black.html) Warning, link is HIGHLY NSFW.


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